


The Unexpected

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blind Date, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 02:35:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4417733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for a prompt on tumblr. Alex doesn't know what to expect on this date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> for tumblr user didsw, hope you enjoy! (laughs did i caputre the awkwardness right idk)

Alex stuffs her hands deeper into the pockets of her jeans; it’s too hot out to be wearing pants but it’s too late to go back and change because her date is going to get here soon. Right now she’d honestly rather just go home and go to sleep instead of waiting outside the small restaurant, but she’d told Shuuzou she was up for this. And, she supposes, this is what she gets for talking so much about how single she is—she doesn’t really mind, and it should be up to her to get off her ass and meet someone—because Tatsuya had said that Shuuzou’s friend for work would be perfect for her and Shuuzou had looked at him and then nodded and said they’d get along and here she is, five or ten minutes away from putting those theories to the test. Alex doesn’t know much about this woman, only that she and Shuuzou work together at the auto shop and that according to Tatsuya she’s pretty—which is next to nothing to go on.

“Alex!”

She turns, ducking before she’s totally blinded by the sunlight (it glares off her glasses, but not more than she can adjust to quickly). Shuuzou waves at her, and she waves back, focusing on the woman walking beside him—well, Tatsuya’s right; she’s gorgeous. Her dark hair is drawn back from her face and delicate features in a ponytail, exposing her long, thin neck; her pencil skirt and short-sleeve shirt are impeccable, showing off the lean muscles in her arms and calves. Alex tries very hard not to stare as they approach, brushing her hair back from her face in an effort to calm herself and prepare her words.

“Hey, how are you?” says Shuuzou.

“Fine, and you?” Alex says, inclining her head to both of them.

“Pretty good,” says Shuuzou. “Alex, this is Masako. Masako, Alex.”

Masako nods toward Alex, dipping her firm shoulders slightly. Alex smiles back.

“So, I’ll see you later?” Shuuzou says. “Have fun on your date.”

It’s a rather abrupt departure, but Alex supposes he doesn’t want to third-wheel it or even really facilitate conversation (after all, they’re adults who can figure out social interactions for themselves). Still, though the confusion of not having seen each other before has been avoided the lack of knowledge (at least on Alex’s part) of any common ground other than mutual friends is close to frustrating. So Alex grabs the door to the restaurant and holds it open for Masako.

“Shall we?”

Masako half-smiles. “Yes, thanks.”

Alex isn’t sure if this is good or bad, so she follows Masako in. “Did you just come from work?”

“Yes,” Masako says. “Shuuzou said he’d introduce us, so…”

“He walked you over?”

Masako nods. The host beckons them over to an empty table by the window; they’re still inside in the air conditioning but they get the late afternoon sunbeams over the salt shaker. Alex gives the menu a cursory glance, but decides to try to keep the conversation going.

Stuff happens; they sit down

“How long have you been working as a mechanic?” Alex says, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Since I finished trade school,” says Masako. “So about five, six years.”

So she’s probably a little bit older than Alex—it shouldn’t be surprising and it’s not that much of a difference, but it kind of is. She glances at the menu again and the silence takes over. It’s not that hard to decide what she wants, so she looks up—and she catches Masako’s eye.

“Shuuzou told me you’re a teacher.”

“Yeah,” says Alex. “I teach preschoolers. It’s tiring, but I learn a lot from them.”

Masako nods. “That’s a pretty tough age.”

“For some kids it is, especially with learning how to socialize in large groups. But it’s…rewarding, definitely.”

Masako doesn’t have a reply to that, and Alex isn’t sure how to segue this conversation into something, anything else, and with the lull in conversation the server returns to their table to take their orders. Alex makes an idle comment on the décor; Masako nods; the silence resumes, but not in a particularly urgent or awkward way (but they’re still not really clicking). And then the server is there with their drinks and a smile, and they have something else to look at until Masako speaks again.

“How do you know Shuuzou?”

“Tatsuya introduced us,” says Alex. “But all of us play basketball together.”

“You play?” says Masako.

Her finger curls around her glass, drawing a smear in the condensation—her nails are clean and clipped short and unpolished, quietly well-presented like the rest of her. Alex’s gaze flickers back up to her face; she’s leaning forward on her elbow as if she’s genuinely interested in Alex’s confirmation, not just repeating it back to make polite conversation and to shrink the time between now and whenever the food arrives.

Alex nods. “Not as much as I’d like to, what with work and…life…”

She almost cringes; this sounds horrible and she’s painting herself into a corner, in a dead-end dark alley of conversation, when she’d just been given the opportunity to take this out of awkward solo ice breaking territory. But then Masako half-smiles and nods.

“I understand. Things get in the way. I used to play, too, but I haven’t in a while.”

“Not at all? Why not?”

Masako shrugs. “I keep in shape with all the heavy lifting I do at work, and I don’t really have anyone to play with.”

“What about Shuuzou?”

“I didn’t know he played,” says Masako. “Most of the time we just talk about work.”

“I’m sorry.”

Masako shakes her head. “It is what it is.”

It’s then that the server arrives, just as the conversation is nearing another sort of dead end (and this time Alex really can’t count on Masako to lead them away from the wrong turn, especially because the ball is in Alex’s figurative court right now). The food gives them something new to talk about, even though the conversation does turn back to basketball eventually—about local courts they’ve played in, the best players they’ve seen, weird game moments. They stay long after the server has delivered the check, but the restaurant isn’t all that crowded so there’s no reason for them to leave.

Masako insists on paying and Alex doesn’t protest too much—rather, she says she’ll buy them coffee at the tiny café down the street, and Masako agrees to it. It’s not quite an even trade, but it’s not really about fairness and keeping score. And she appreciates the gesture, so she takes Masako’s hand as they walk out the door. Masako glances at her quickly, sharply, like a pinprick—and then her fingers wrap around the outside of Alex’s hand and Alex can’t contain her grin at all.

The evening has cooled off enough for them to get hot lattes; they stroll in the park as the sun sinks lower, edging toward the horizon like a cautious child with stage fright waiting in the wings. They pass a basketball court; a handful of teenagers are engaged in an outright physical battle, the orange blur of the basketball almost lost among tangling limbs moving equally fast, from one basket to the other with each team barely able to get a shot off before it’s blocked. They stop for a while; eventually one team scores into the left basket but it gives them no momentum; the defensive stalemate continues. Masako squeezes Alex’s hand. The sounds of the ball bouncing from hand to floor to hand and the squeak of sneakers against asphalt swell.

“Alex.”

Alex turns toward Masako. “Hm?”

“You have foam on your lip.”

Alex begins to reach up to her face but before her hand can get there Masako tugs her back down, and their mouths collide. Masako licks the outside of Alex’s lips, getting whatever (if any) foam there was, and then her tongue retreats, leaving the taste of milky coffee and something tangy and spicy. Alex doesn’t try to push back, but opens her mouth to deepen the kiss. They stay just like that for a few more seconds before Masako sinks back down onto her heels and Alex straightens up. Her mouth is curling itself into a cheek-stretching grin, because wow. Wow.

“You want to play ball with me sometime?” Alex says.

The kids on the court are clearing out, checking their phones and splitting off. One of them is spinning the basketball on a finger. Masako smiles.

“Don’t go easy on me.”


End file.
